


temperature's rising in here

by FagurFiskur



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel, Alpha Castiel/Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Dubious Consent, Enemies to Lovers, M/M, Misunderstandings, Omega Dean Winchester, because heat sex you know how this trope goes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 20:20:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21924631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FagurFiskur/pseuds/FagurFiskur
Summary: After a few moments, his neighbor comes to the door. Much to his frustration, Castiel is still taken aback every time he sees Dean Winchester face to face and is reminded of how unfairly handsome he is. The feeling passes quickly when his scent hits Castiel’s nose, an unpleasant alpha stench with synthetic undertones caused by the enhancers he always wears.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 42
Kudos: 1002





	temperature's rising in here

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Into You by Ariana Grande for no reason other than that's what I'm listening to right now.
> 
> Huge thanks to fangirlingtodeath513 for beta reading!

It’s been a productive afternoon. Castiel surveys his canvas for a moment, a peaceful scene of a meadow bathed in the rays of a setting sun. It is nearly complete, save for a few wildflowers at the edges. He’s been painting them for the past few hours, adding painstaking detail to every individual flower, making sure that every single petal looks perfect.

He brings the wet paintbrush to the canvas, when a sudden blast of electric guitar startles him. Castiel’s hand twitches at the shock, leaving a bright red streak covering what constitutes at least an hour’s work.

Castiel straightens, jaw clenching when he realizes that the music is coming from the apartment next to his. He throws the paintbrush on the palette, storming out of his apartment and across the hall. He rings the bell a few times, knocking for good measure.

After a few moments, his neighbor comes to the door. Much to his frustration, Castiel is still taken aback every time he sees Dean Winchester face to face and is reminded of how unfairly handsome he is. The feeling quickly passes when his scent hits Castiel’s nose, an unpleasant alpha stench with synthetic undertones caused by the enhancers he always wears. 

Dean leans against the doorframe and grins at him, as if he doesn’t know exactly why Castiel is there.

“Turn the music down,” Castiel says, his tone as polite as he can manage under the circumstances.

Dean feigns surprise. “You could hear it through the wall?” 

“Don’t play stupid, you know I could. You were doing it on purpose to annoy me.”

“My life doesn’t revolve around you. Anyway, I need it that loud while I vacuum, otherwise I can’t hear it.”

Castiel scoffs. “So use headphones.”

“Can’t, they got lost in the move.” Dean shoots him a winning smile. “Surely you can put up with some Zeppelin for a few minutes?”

And before Castiel can answer, the door gets shut in his face. He stands in the hallway, fuming, debating whether it would be worth the hassle to knock again and prolong the argument. 

He decides against it. It would probably end the same way, only with more of Castiel’s time wasted. He spends enough time and energy fighting with Dean as is. Sometimes Castiel wishes he were the kind of alpha who punches first. It would make dealing with Dean a lot simpler, if not easier.

He goes back to his apartment and begins to do what he can to salvage his painting.

The music goes on for another forty minutes. 

*

Up until three months ago, the apartment across from Castiel’s housed a young beta couple. He had a good relationship with them, meaning that he nodded at them when he saw them in the hallway and they waved back, and that was it.

Then they moved out and Dean Winchester moved in.

Castiel expected a similar relationship with his new neighbor: amicable but distant. He wasn’t expecting it to affect his life at all.

He first saw Dean in the hallway between their apartments. There were boxes stacked by the doors, being carried inside by a few young men, all alphas judging by the aggressive scent. Dean himself was standing by his door, instructing a tall, brunet man on where the box in his hands should go.

Castiel didn’t mean to but he stopped short. Dean was wearing jeans and a dark t-shirt, the bare skin on his arms glistening from the physical effort of moving. He looked like the perfect alpha specimen, an Adonis come to life. Castiel had the desperate urge to reach for his pencil and sketchbook.

Then Dean noticed him. “Hey, are you the guy in 2B?”

Castiel glanced back at his door, as if he needed to make sure. “Oh. Yes, yes I am.”

Dean stepped closer, and Castiel’s first thought was that it was a shame about his scent. It smelled artificial; Dean had clearly doused himself in enhancers in order to smell more alpha. Castiel had known a few alphas who did that throughout the years and they were without exception aggressive and overcompensating.

Still, he would give his new neighbor the benefit of the doubt. He shook Dean’s hand when offered and smiled politely.

“I’m Castiel Novak.”

“Dean Winchester.”

They held onto each other’s hands for a little longer than socially acceptable. Finally, Dean dropped his.

“So,” he said. “Alpha?”

Castiel was struck dumb. An alpha questioning another alpha like this, never mind a virtual stranger, was extremely rude. It was all there in the scent. Saying it out loud, phrasing it like a question, came off as a passive-aggressive insult at best and Castiel was suddenly very aware of his many deficiencies next to this textbook example of an alpha.

Dean was taller than him and his shoulders were wider. He looked younger by about five years, and his clothes weren’t covered in old paint splatters. Castiel was sure he had some proper alpha job, like police officer or fireman.

Shaking himself, Castiel realized that Dean was still looking at him, an amused glint in his eyes. Anger suddenly overwhelmed him; he wouldn’t put up with anyone making him doubt his alpha abilities, just because he didn’t fit a narrow stereotype.

“I am,” he replied frostily. “And you’d do well to remember that.”

Perhaps he’d gone a step too far with the implied threat but Castiel couldn’t bring himself to regret it when Dean’s smug smirk dropped.

“Trust me, I will,” he deadpanned.

The tall brunet – who Castiel would later learn was Dean’s brother – came back out of the apartment and demanded that Dean get back to moving.

That was, to this day, the most polite conversation they’d ever had.

*

Castiel doesn’t go out much but occasionally his best friend Meg will drag him to some neighborhood bar and he will let her. It isn’t Castiel’s scene but he can play the extrovert on occasion, especially if it will get Meg off his back for a week or two.

The bar tonight is one they haven’t been to in a few months. It’s not too far away from Castiel’s apartment, small and sparsely decorated, but the atmosphere is cozy and the drinks are cheap.

Meg is waiting by the entrance when Castiel arrives and they walk in together. The place is somewhat crowded but there’s thankfully no line at the bar. Castiel leans against the counter, half-raises his hand to catch the bartender’s attention and then freezes.

It’s Dean Winchester.

Of fucking course.

“I’ll have a Jack and Coke,” Meg orders, oblivious to Castiel’s shock or perhaps just ignoring it. She hasn’t had the misfortune of meeting Dean yet.

Dean spares one glance at Castiel before turning his attention to Meg with a charming smile. “You’ve got it. And for your boyfriend?”

Another social faux-pas, although Castiel should really not be surprised at this point. He doesn’t generally mind when Meg is treated as the boss in the relationship – she is, really – but he knows Dean is one of those alphas who would consider it a grave insult.

Just to spite him, Castiel answers: “I will have the Lemon Basil Margarita.”

He did just want a beer but if he can take the opportunity to rub it in Dean’s face that he’s not afraid to be an unconventional alpha, all the better.

“Sure thing,” Dean drawls. “So, you like fruity drinks? Shocker.”

Castiel grinds his teeth. He has been called ‘fruity’ before but not since middle school. Arguing with Dean like this is so far below his dignity but he also can’t let him win.

He waits while Dean mixes Meg’s drink and then his. Only once the cocktail is in his hand – infuriatingly perfect, like everything about Dean except his personality – does he say:

“You know what, I remember now that I’m not too fond of basil. Please make one without it.”

And he hands the glass back to Dean.

That charming smile is suddenly looking a lot more strained.

“Sure.”

Castiel watches as Dean mixes his drink again. He does so expertly and to his annoyance, Castiel can’t help but notice how tightly his t-shirt clings to him and how nimble his fingers are. He tears his eyes away from him, to see Meg is looking at him with a strange expression on her face. Castiel flushes and diverts his gaze to the bar countertop, ashamed that he’s just been caught staring.

Another perfect looking cocktail slides into his field of vision.

“Here you go,” Dean says, not even bothering with a smile anymore.

Castiel crosses his arms. “I don’t think I’m in the mood for a margarita anymore. I’ll take an Aperol Spritz instead.”

He feels a rush of vindictive pleasure when Dean’s jaw clenches.

“You know what…”

“Dean,” another bartender, a blonde Castiel is just now noticing, hisses. “Play nice with the customers, remember? You know Adler’s looking for reasons to fire you.”

Dean reddens at that and Castiel decides he’s done having his fun. He just wanted to piss him off a little, not get him in trouble at work. Even though he’s sure Dean has done _something_ to deserve being under such close watch.

“It’s fine,” he says, taking his Margarita. “I suppose this is fruity enough for me.”

He does leave a tip, more out of principle than because he wants to reward Dean in any way. As soon as they’re out of earshot, Meg pulls on his arm.

“What the hell was that?” she mutters.

Castiel averts his eyes, embarrassment settling in now that he’s not directly in front of Dean’s infuriating face. He knows better than this, or he did before he met Dean. “That was my neighbor.”

“The douchey one?” Meg’s eyebrows rise and she glances back. “Huh. You never told me he was hot. You ever think of just banging it out with him?”

Castiel stops short, vivid images popping into his mind without permission. He forcibly banishes them. “ _Never_ say that again!”

Meg cackles. “Oh, come on Clarence. You telling me you don’t wanna get rid of all that pent-up aggression?”

“I am perfectly capable of reigning in my emotions,” Castiel says, well aware of what a poor job he’s done showing that tonight. “And I wouldn’t touch Dean Winchester with a ten foot pole.”

“Hmm but would you touch him with _your_ ten inch pole?”

Meg just laughs again at Castiel’s withering glare, but she drops the subject after that and they move onto more pleasant topics.

And if Castiel flashes back to those images she planted later that night, once he’s alone in bed, then no one else needs to know.

Castiel is on his way to work when he steps into the hallway and the scent of omega in heat hits him. He reels for a moment, thrown off balance by the sweet, maddeningly enticing smell. It’s oddly familiar and yet Castiel is sure he’s never smelled it before. If he had, he would have without doubt propositioned this omega on the spot.

Then he realizes where it’s coming from.

The apartment across the hall.

 _Of course_. Of course Dean Winchester, perfect alpha brute, would have the omega of Castiel’s dreams before he even realized they existed. He probably didn’t even have to try, not with that ridiculously beautiful face of his.

Castiel covers his nose and forces himself to keep going, to leave that delicious scent behind. It’s not until he’s reached the safety of the elevator that he realizes the undertones of frustration lining the omega’s scent.

Well. Looks like Dean isn’t the _perfect_ alpha after all.

The scent is still there when Castiel gets back home, covering the entire hallway. It is just the slightest bit sour, the frustration more evident than before, and Castiel is torn between pity for the poor omega and satisfaction in the knowledge that Dean is apparently too lousy in bed to please even an omega _in heat_.

There is also the longing to barge into Dean’s apartment and show the omega just how much better he could take care of them. But Castiel is a civilized alpha, unlike some. In any case, he’s sure the omega’s heat will have passed soon enough.

That night, Castiel wakes up suddenly. He sits up, disoriented and wondering what the hell woke him. Then he notices the smell.

The omega’s scent has grown stronger, permeating Castiel’s apartment, and the frustration has grown into terrible distress. Castiel is out of bed before he realizes he’s moving, walking through his apartment in quick strides. Being unable to properly satisfy an omega is one thing but allowing them to go unfulfilled to the point of pain is dangerous. Even with the low, low expectations Castiel has for Dean this is beyond the pale.

He’s in front of Dean’s door and knocking in moments, still clad in nothing but boxers and a t-shirt and uncaring of how this visit might come across. He’ll fight Dean if he has to but this omega needs help, even if all Castiel can do is drive them to the hospital and get them medical attention.

A few long seconds pass and then the door is opening and Dean is there. Castiel opens his mouth to speak but the words stall as he takes in the sight of his neighbor, pale-faced and sweaty, his expression miserable and his eyes red.

“What?” Dean spits, and it’s then that Castiel realizes.

He can’t smell an alpha. It’s just the omega’s scent, stronger than ever and near impossible to resist even with the sour notes of distress.

And it’s coming

from

Dean.

“I-” Castiel says. He snaps his mouth shut, unable to process this. How is this possible? Dean is an _alpha_ , Castiel is _sure_ of that. “You’re…”

Dean doesn’t seem to notice that Castiel’s worldview is crumbling before his eyes. He looks him over, frowns. “What the hell, I’m desperate.”

Then he’s gripping Castiel’s shirt and pulling him inside, shoving the door shut behind him.

Inside, the smell is even stronger, permeating every nook and cranny. Castiel lets out a low growl without meaning to, and when Dean tugs at him again it’s the most natural thing in the world to go along and let himself be pulled into a heated kiss.

Dean somehow tastes even better than he smells and for once in his life Castiel has no interest in constraining his inner alpha. He turns them around, shoving Dean against the door and feeling a bolt of satisfaction and lust when Dean whimpers into his lips. He feels like _he’s_ the one in heat, desperate for more of Dean’s touch, Dean’s taste, Dean’s smell, _Dean._

Dean yelps and it’s then that Castiel realizes that he’s picked him up, hands clutching his thighs, Dean’s legs wrapped around his waist.

“Fuck,” Dean breathes, breaking away just for a moment. His eyes are dark with desire, flush high on his cheeks. He’s never looked this good. “Didn’t know you had it in you.”

Castiel growls again, carrying Dean towards the couch and dropping him unceremoniously. If Dean is still coherent enough to sass him, he’s not doing his job.

He dives down, shoving Dean’s robes aside. He’s naked underneath, miles of pale skin slick with sweat and flushed a pretty pink. His cock is hard, straining against his stomach, and underneath…

Castiel ducks, grasping Dean’s thighs as he dives in between his legs. At the first touch of Castiel’s tongue against his hole Dean stiffens, breath catching in his chest and hand grasping at Castiel’s head for purchase. Castiel doesn’t hesitate, lapping at the slick already dripping from Dean’s hole, groaning at the taste, sweet and heady.

Dean is positively leaking, loose and ready for Castiel to fuck him. Castiel isn’t ready though, wants Dean not just desperate but desperate for _him_. He wants Dean to beg.

He spears his tongue, penetrating Dean with it. Dean’s fingers tighten against his scalp, tugging, impatient and breathy noises falling from his lips. Castiel keeps fucking Dean with his tongue, traces his hand against Dean’s side, reaching a nipple and pinching it in warning. If Dean wants something, he needs to ask and not push.

“Cas,” Dean groans. “C’mon man, I’m _ready_.”

Castiel pulls away. “Ready for what?”

“Fuck you,” Dean spits. Castiel ducks back down, licking over Dean’s hole and grasping his cock with his free hand at the same time, giving it a few strokes. “Ugh, just fuck me already.”

“Please,” Cas instructs.

Dean curses him again, but he can’t disguise the quickness of his breath with bravado or pretend those pretty noises tumbling past his lips aren’t there. “Fine,” he says through clenched teeth. “ _Please_ fuck me, alpha. I need your cock, need you to fill me up good and-”

He cuts himself off with a yelp as Castiel pulls away, grasping his thighs tight and turning him around. He’s quick to get with the program, arching his back as Castiel crawls on top of him and presenting oh so prettily. Castiel grasps his hip, grinds against Dean’s backside and groaning when the head of his cock catches against Dean’s hole. He’s the one who feels desperate now, heat coursing through his veins and cock achingly hard.

He positions himself, grasping his dick and guiding it into Dean’s hole. It seems to suck him inside, wet and warm and yet impossibly tight. Castiel can’t help himself, he slams his cock the rest of the way inside and relishes the deep, guttural moan Dean releases.

He doesn’t give him time to adjust either, just starts fucking him hard and steady. Dean pushes against him so Castiel tightens his grip, holding him in place as he pistons inside him, relishing in the way it makes Dean curse hoarsely. He leans over and traces his mouth against the back of Dean’s neck, that place where the damp root of his hair fades into sensitive skin. Dean arches against him, straining against Castiel’s hold and moans when Castiel bites down, hard enough to leave a mark but not to break skin.

Castiel picks up his pace, heat building in his gut. He reaches underneath Dean with his free hand, grabs his cock again and starts stroking in time with his thrusts. Dean whines plaintively, too lost in the heat to hold those noises back now. Castiel’s knot is growing, catching on Dean’s rim as he fucks him hard and ruthless.

Dean groans loudly, twitching in Castiel’s grip as he comes, just as Castiel’s knot finally catches and locks them together. Castiel curses softly, burying his face in Dean’s shoulder as he comes, filling Dean and adding to the mess between them.

They both go limp, Dean resting his weight against the couch and Castiel half on-top of him, still locked together and breathing like they’ve just run a marathon.

“Fuck,” Dean breathes, breaking the silence between them.

Castiel hums in agreement, letting go of Dean’s cock and carelessly wiping his hand on his hip. He feels as much as hears Dean huff at that but he’s too tired to bring himself to care.

“We should move this to bed,” Dean finally says.

Castiel nods. Even so, they don’t get up for a long while, not until Castiel’s knot has gone down and they can finally muster up the energy to move. Dean takes a short detour to his kitchen, picking up a bottle of water and a couple of energy bars, and then they’re heading for the bedroom.

Maybe it should feel awkward but Castiel doesn’t feel anything but grateful as he sinks into the soft mattress, tugging Dean close and burying his nose back in the crook of Dean’s neck. He’s always been clingy after sex, something several of his exes have commented on and even made fun of him for, but Dean just grabs his arm and tugs him even closer, wriggling until his back is pressed tight against Castiel’s front.

They fall asleep like that.

Castiel blinks as he wakes, confused at first by the figure in his arms. Then the night before comes flooding back in vivid detail.

“Oh,” he breathes, looking down at Dean who turned around at some point during the night and is now resting his head against Castiel’s chest. He’s also awake, although barely, peering at Castiel from underneath heavy eyelids.

“That happened, huh?”

“Yes,” Castiel agrees. He swallows, mouth suddenly and inexplicably dry. “I didn’t know you were an omega.”

Dean blinks up at Castiel, the furrow between his brows deepening. “What the hell did you think I was?”

“You always smell like an alpha,” Castiel says, defensive. He can recall now, all those times he thought Dean’s scent smelled artificial, but he always chalked it up to enhancers. “What was I supposed to think?”

“I don’t always-” Dean frowns. “I wear blockers for work, that’s it. Being an omega bartender would be a nightmare otherwise.”

“Well, they work very well. You’ve always smelled like an alpha to me.”

Dean pulls away, sitting up and resting on his elbows. “Wait, you seriously thought…?”

“Can you blame me?”

Castiel regrets it as soon as he’s said it, especially when Dean’s expression falls before he schools it into a neutral mask. Dean does look like the perfect specimen of alpha but as an omega, he is anything but conventional. Has someone made Dean feel like he’s not good enough being what he is? Is that why he’s spending his heats alone, even if it seems to hurt him so much?

“That’s not what I meant,” Castiel says apologetically.

“It’s fine,” Dean says, sounding anything but. “I guess that explains why you’ve been such a dick.”

Castiel draws back, offended. “ _I’ve_ been a dick? What about you? The loud music, the constant barbs, questioning my masculinity…”

“Hey, I was just trying to protect myself from a strange alpha. If you let alphas think they can walk all over you then you need to work twice as hard at protecting yourself.”

Castiel considers this for a moment, concedes that Dean has a point. “So we’ve both been dicks.”

“Fine,” Dean says. “But for the record, I can still kick your ass, omega or not. So don’t get any funny ideas.”

Castiel glances down, at their bodies still naked and somewhat intertwined. He looks back up at Dean, pointedly.

“That was a one time thing,” Dean mutters.

“Was it?” Castiel asks, surprised at how disappointed that makes him feel.

“I don’t know.” Dean averts his gaze, looking suddenly unsure of himself. “Wasn’t it? You don’t even like me.”

“You don’t like me either,” Castiel reminds him.

“Well, maybe I was wrong.”

“Then so was I.”

Dean looks back at him. His lips quirk, in just the slightest of smiles, and Castiel is once again struck by just how beautiful he is. “Does that mean you wanna keep this going?”

“I’m not sure,” Castiel admits. Then, feeling unexpectedly bold, he adds, “But I do want to kiss you again.”

Dean grins, leans in, and just like that they’re done talking. That’s fine, Castiel thinks as he bites down on Dean’s bottom lip, eliciting a soft moan.

Talking is overrated, anyway.


End file.
